


Strange (But Perfect)

by TheCookieOfDoom



Series: Prompt Fills [11]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Omega/Omega, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 07:13:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11939007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheCookieOfDoom/pseuds/TheCookieOfDoom
Summary: Their dynamic may have been strange to outsiders, but to them it was perfect, and exactly what they needed.





	Strange (But Perfect)

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: omega/omega fluff for jon/theon? I really liked your stream of consciousness style in thool so maybe something like that? thank you! 
> 
> Here you go, sweetness. Finished this the other day and I just finished editing, I hope you like it!

To outside eyes, Jon and Theon had a strange kind of relationship. One moment, Jon would be hacking at Theon with a practice sword as if he wished to take the Ironborn’s head from his shoulders. In the next, he would be bandaging Theon’s wounds and rubbing a soothing salve into bruises wherever Theon could not reach on his own. Theon was just as strange, calling Jon bastard and whoreson, only to help him out of his armor when his arm was too sore to be of use. It wasn’t quite friendship--they still fought like sworn enemies--nor was it the kind of rivalry like they were on opposing sides of a battle. It was confusing, whatever it was, no one knowing how they would act towards each other in any given moment.

When Jon was stressed Theon would pin him to the wall in a secluded hallway and bite at his neck until he was calmed, going limp like a pup that had been picked up by the scruff of his neck. Theon wasn’t good at being gentle, his bites sharp and his hands harsh, bruising Jon more often than not. He was learning, though, soothing the bruises and bite-marks with soft kisses whenever he could. 

When Theon was agitated Jon would take him somewhere secluded, scenting him until he calmed. Nuzzling at his neck interspersed with soft kisses, playing with sandy-blonde curls the way only he knew Theon liked. 

With Theon’s head resting on Jon’s lap, he thought it was a strange relationship, but one that worked for them. They did not need anything more or less than what they had; someone to understand them completely. Just one other person. Even if they sometimes said things that they shouldn’t--even if it was things they may mean--even if they were sometimes times thoughtless and carelessly hurtful. At the end of the day they weren’t friends, but they were companions. Not a shoulder to cry on, but someone to talk to. A tenuous ally. The shadow in the corner that could frighten away other monsters as much as them. 

It was Jon who’d found Theon in the godswood, praying to gods he didn’t believe in but had no others to turn to, his own so far away in the sea. The Drowned God held no sway over the North, nor the men in it. But perhaps just this once the faces in the trees would listen to an unwanted kraken too far from the sea. Jon had been going to pray as well, as he often did. Theon had been carefully kneeling. His clothes had been torn and there were dried tear tracks on his dirty face. The scent of unknown alphas clung to him, mingling with his own. Theon had been only fourteen, Jon two years younger. 

When Jon asked what happened, Theon hadn’t answered. Jon approached, slowly, carefully, like he was trying to get near a frightened or wounded animal. Theon hadn’t wanted to let him, but he did anyway, turning and crying into the younger boy’s shoulder when Jon kneeled beside him. Theon who never cried, who never showed any form of weakness because he knew what that could mean for him. Theon who knew that despite years of hate and jealousy, he had nothing to fear from this small omega child. That was the day things changed between them. 

Theon did not want to be coddled, and Jon did not want to coddle him. That did not mean Jon didn’t try to protect him when he could, casually mentioning Jory whenever he saw alpha’s looking too closely, too cruelly, at Theon. Jory, who would tell Lord Stark of anyone laying a hand on his ward; such perpetrators would be punished dearly, and Theon was not worth it when there were brothels only a short ride away. Theon may not have ever thanked Jon for it, not with words at least. But there was no guess as to where the sugared rose petals came from shortly after each of those incidents. 

Oftentimes, the more pleasant things between Jon and Theon went unsaid. Secret looks and discreet touches, traded gifts of sweets and trinkets left in each others rooms but going unmentioned. Rarely did one say something kind to the other, in the beginning. But since that day in the godswood, they have come far.

“Aim carefully,” Theon would say, lifting Jon’s elbow when he drew back an arrow, putting him into the correct form. “Perfect,” he would say under his breath for only Jon to hear when the arrow went straight through the center of the target. 

“Watch your footwork,” Jon would say, tapping him with the blunt tip of his sword until Theon widened his stance. “Excellent,” he would whisper, when they came to a draw, evenly matched. 

Together they made quite the pair, the bastard son and unwanted ward who may as well be a bastard himself. They could understand each other in a way the others could not. It was only natural that they would fall into bed with each other, once they were older. Oftentimes the castle was cold, too cold to sleep alone. It had been Jon sneaking into Theon’s room first, crawling under his furs and shocking him awake with cold hands, apologizing with a sheepish half-smile. 

Grumbling and disgruntled, Theon made some comment about Jon being too cold for this, but wrapped the younger boy up in his arms anyway, shivering when he pulled him into his warm embrace. Jon nuzzled at him, soft curls tickling Theon’s nose and making him want to sneeze. Instead he breathed deeper, rubbing his cheek against Jon’s hair. His scent was soft, gentle, not at all overbearing and overwhelming like an alpha. It was something that made Theon relax, sweet and familiar, rather than freeze in trepidation as his heart made a place in his throat. Not that Theon would ever say as much, Jon didn’t need to know. (He already did.) 

Their dynamic may have been strange to outsiders, but to them it was perfect, and exactly what they needed. 

**Author's Note:**

> !!! 4 more works until 100! lets see those oneshot prompts, guys!


End file.
